MMXII
by animeparody
Summary: The year 2012 was a war like no other, a time man wasted fighting each other when beneath their own feet the earth herself had risen to strike us at our hearts. A Pyrrhic victory with no true victor, perhaps it was the dystopia that emerged that the Mayans foresaw and hailed as the apocalypse. (Dystopia AU, DRABBLE TYPE)
1. 00:Pyrrhic Victory

_[The year 2012 was a war like no other, a time man wasted fighting each other when beneath their own feet the earth herself had risen to strike us at our hearts. _

_We drowned in the might of hurricanes and tsunamis, burned in the explosions of bombs and volcanoes, our bodies buried under our fallen cities and lost on far of lands were we had gone to fight. _

_A Pyrrhic victory with no true victor, perhaps it was the dystopia that emerged that the Mayans foresaw and hailed as the apocalypse.]_

_- _Excerpt from The Third World War by Terra Magmus.

* * *

The bodies stayed, so they buried them.

They buried their own families, only paying respects to old friends.

They were tired. Too tired.

By the next century more had died, though none in bloodshed.

They signed away their lands, burned their flags, just to leave this horrible ruins and go to somewhere where memories of smiles and happier days would embrace them.

War stayed with you, long after the gunfire has died and the swords put away. Long after treaties were signed and hands were shook. War haunted you till the end, the sound of gunfire and screams penetrating their dreams and the faces of those fallen, be it foe or friend, imprinted into their sight.

They kept fading, disappearing until the only ones left were the ones that still had reason to hold one.

A thousand years later, with a third of the world inhabitable and another third wild, there were only fourteen of us left.


	2. 01:Soundscape

_[It was unpredicted, yet entirely expected. A disaster that brought men to their knees, like an archangel striking down the devil. _

_And like the devil, we rose bitter and filled with hate, with nothing but the red of war burned into the back of our eyes._

_We got our wish. _

_By our own hand we destroyed what remained of our world.]_

- Excerpt from The Third World War by Terra Magmus

* * *

_He dreams of a day a thousand years ago, where the blade years through his brother and rips out his lung, where the faint scent of the sea that buries Venice, the taste of ash from the remains of Rome and the warm blood of his brother assaults his senses. _

* * *

3051, January 26, Rome.

Feli can't remember the last time he woke up in his own bed or that of a poor girl that he's bound to leave sobbing and not this place, with its cold and blank walls and the mess on the floor.

_(They were priceless once, archived and hidden away, preserved until that thing had-)_

Feli can't remember the last time he dreamed of something that wasn't his past, be it a friend's sky blue eyes or a brothers corpse.

_(Anything but that, even the pain of having_ it_ rip into his chest and wrench _it_ out is fine, anything but his body on the ground unmoving-)_

He can't remember a lot of things now. All he has to hold on to now is his identity and what he stands for.

_(Hah. Hah. He used to be only north- who is he now?)_

Feliciano Vargas, The republic of Italy and Southern Europe.

* * *

The air is tangy, thick with smoke and things he can't bother to name. The streets are never crowded, not anymore

_(because how could they be with so many dead and and they've never recovered, not after a thousand years it's still painful-)_

And the few that are are mindless, walking to whatever silence of a life they have. He can gauge that out of the ten people lying down one the streets four are on the verge of death and five are dead.

He bends down to give the last one the bread he's holding.

She's a skinny thing, sadly young but maybe it will be to her advantage, having a body not yet weakened by age.

It is a surprise that in the ruins of this place that was once the capital of the greatest civilisation on earth, later the hailed city of god, there is someone who can still smile at him.

* * *

3051, January 26, Seoul

The memorial is vastly underwhelming.

He would have gone to the border of course, but that's unreachable.

_(And it's his fault because he's the one who did that, made it a sick wasteland-)_

He needs to stop doing this.

It's simple, one big black stone with a few choice words to make up a half hearted speech because North wasn't something they were proud of in the first place

_(His crazy, trigger happy brother who's so gloomy and wants to be alone all the time-)_

and they didn't have the time to care so much after the war.

"You're going to be late."

"Then go without me Nguyen."

Vietnam has aged. She has lines on her face now, a tiredness seeping out of her, barely visible.

"Korea. Macau's stalling but we need to go. All three of us."

"Give me give more minutes."

He closes his eyes and tries to grab at the fleeting memory, a person with a face like his, who should've smiled more but all he can remember is looking at Hyung-Soo leave.

"Okay. Let's go."

* * *

Vietnam feels like a third wheel.

It was never easy for her to make friends. She bore an unfriendly appearance and she knew that she was naive, easy to take advantage of.

Was.

The war changed everything.

She's more stable compared to Korea and Macau. They have lost sibling, brothers who's faces and voices fill their dreams and leave them waking up crying. She has lost a second family, just enough to twinge her heart and pull when she least expects it.

She hurts too of course. Just not as badly as the other two.

She dreams of days spent dreaming, old ambitions and achievements. All reduced to nothing in the war.

It's funny, but her memento is a small, laminated world map. From 2011. With all the countries labeled and flags beside their names.

Now it's just a list of the dead.

* * *

Macau let's out the breath he's holding when Vietnam waves at him from a distance, toting the sulky Korean beside her.

_(He used to be different, now he looks like his brother, so sad and alone and determined to shoulder burdens-)_

Macau offered a smile, which he returned wanly.

"You ready?"

"We have to be."

Clipped and short, a few short words in a sigh.

Yes. That's right.

They were Asia now, it was their duty to represent the continent.

_(Because the population by country is still frighteningly small, and he still can't fully believe it's just the three of them now, sometimes he dreams they're still here-)_

They turn down the black road.

"Don't go about pissing him off again. Remember who you are now."

"Yeah, yeah. TAR. I know Macau."

* * *

3051, January 27, Versailles.

"Why do we always go here Lady Bela?"

"I've told you before Moldova. It's tradition."

Versailles has barely improved. There were actual standing buildings now of course, but none for habitation and so few that the city's former glory could not be likened to the shoddy thing it was now.

Belarus pulled Moldova away from the burnt, crumbling skeletons of the Palace of Versailles, back to the ashy road.

_(Because no matter how much they tried, and they tried very hard, they just couldn't get rid of the ashes. It's sickens her, because these are the ashes of people, fallen in flames as they were running, away from-)_

"There it is."

The stone building is small, compared to the old summit buildings she barely remembers.

_(she remembers her brother though, and her sister failing so miserably at making friends and Lithuania with Poland and the rest of the USSR-)_

"Remember why we're here today Moldova. We're the Belarusian and Moldavian Union of Eastern Europe okay?"

"Okay."

* * *

3051, January 27, Versailles

"Matthew!"

He recognises the voice but opening his eyes and actually looking at him is still jarring.

Peter looks exactly like Arthur.

Well not exactly, there's a tousle in his hair that Arthur never had, and a smile that's too sunny but all the same Matthew nearly calls him his brother.

He mentally slaps himself, when despite catching himself at the first syllable Peter catches the mistake and his eyes darken. Quickly, Mathew shifts the subject.

"Peter, about those imports…"

Not quick enough.

"I can't import too much DNSA. My people need things too."

_(With that population really? That's some bull- )_

"Okay UK."

Well this was going to be a cold meeting. At least he hadn't called him the other name.

* * *

If Peter wanted to be really evil he could call Matthew America. Just calling him The Democracy of Northern and Southern America would be enough to sucker punch his.

But then he'd be one hell of an ass.

Having a dead sibling had little privileges, especially when everyone had dead families too.

It still sucked when someone called him Arthur.

He's done everything in his power short of magically dyeing his hair (he tried red and then black only to realise to his horror that it made him look like his other dead brothers) but he couldn't help it. People looked for traces of the past even in the most unlikely places.

He never thought he'd hate the family resemblance.

* * *

3051, January 27, Versailles

"Thanks for the ride Cyprus."

"Yeah, thanks."

"It's fine."

The silence that followed wasn't really awkward.

Surrounded by crumbling black spires that jutted our from the ground unnaturally, ground buried under half an inch of ash; the cemetery feel dampened spirits. No one felt like talking here. They just brisk walked to the meeting place, eager to enter shelter that would shield them from the eldritch city.

"So, Wy how've you been?"

Thank you Seychelles for being such a sunny person.

The Australian, a young adult by their standards now, absentmindedly answered her, eyeing a mound of rubble wearily.

"Hmm? Fine."

They lapsed back into silence.

They weren't there at the fight that took place here, heck the place wasn't even where the fighting began. It just got caught up in the big net of destruction that spiralled out of Paris after France fell.

The damage was still a slap in the face for them though. If this is what it looked like outside the capital, they could only image the wasteland Paris looked like.

"There. There's the building."

It's easy to spot without Wy pointing it out. It's still standing for one. Newer, the ash yet to coat it and lights in it. A far walk, but to drive a vehicle in here would be madness.

It took a great deal of self control for them not to sprint to the door.

* * *

Wy reached the door first and her haste nearly knocked over Iceland.

The Nordic Kingdom was unfazed and calmly moved away.

"Hello Australia."

"Oh! Sorry Iceland-"

Too late. He had disappeared past the corner of a hallway.

Well. Cold as usual.

"Was that Iceland?"

"Yeah."

Seychelles set her coat by the door, examining the coat rack.

"Ah there's his coat. And that's Matthew's jacket, ooh Peter's too! And I thing that's Belarus and Moldova's."

Cyprus added his coat with a sigh.

"Great. We're nearly last."

"At this rate Italy will be last again no?"

Cyprus moved away from the door, letting a smiling Asian man in spectacles come through.

"Cyprus."

"Macau."

"If your not to busy measuring dicks can you move? We're trying to go in here."

"Korea!"

Korea cut between Cyprus and Macau to slump towards the hallway, tossing his jacket and scarf over his shoulder. Miraculously, they landed in the correct pile.

"Sorry."

"Don't be. He's getting less rude with each year."

Vietnam straightened the black jacket, hooking it up properly in between hers and Macau's.

"So what's today going to be about?"

"Another episode of [let's discuss politics without getting too depressed] I suppose."

Everyone sighed.

* * *

Liechenstein eyed Italy as he slipped into the meeting room, sliding into his seat and catching Belarus's glare. He smiles it away and winces as he shifts his posture.

She goes back into the discussion with Belgium.

This is the basics for every meeting. They quietly discuss international issues with the conflicting nation, someone addresses a global issue, they smooth out the wrinkles and silently leave after a few hours. She only had to fix a bit of a border skirmish with Italy and Belgium, and maybe pitch in to the global stuff and she'd be done. Back to neutrality.

Belgium didn't take a troublesome amount land, just a third of France to make a strip to Spain, which she claimed along with her brother. The other thirds of France was Peter's. But border skirmishes were still their biggest problem, since it was taking an astounding amount of time for their governments to settle this. They didn't have that much problem though. They were fine with just claiming what belonged to loved ones lost.

But their citizens, like all humans, were always greedy for more.

_(Wasn't that out downfall in the first place?)_

* * *

Laugh. Laugh. Laugh.

Keep laughing- they'll never break you-

_(Aren't you already broken?)_

You keep coming back-

Keep. Laughing.

_(You're going to choke on your own blood.)_

He's choking on a steel blade though.


End file.
